


Shift

by 98Hawkeye98



Series: The Hunter and The Wolf [3]
Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Cause let's be honest Dean's a potty mouth, Complete, Gore, M/M, Protective Eliot Spencer, Sexual Content, Shifters, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/98Hawkeye98/pseuds/98Hawkeye98
Summary: After saving Parker, Dean is stuck in the hospital where the nurses aren't hot and the day time television sucks. His escape comes in the form of Eliot reading an article off his phone to Dean about a potential werewolf hunt. Reluctantly, Eliot brings him along. The team finds out that Dean's left the hospital, tracks him down, and insists to be a part of the hunt.“No, Parker, it’s-”“Too late. Hardison tracked your cell and we’re on our way. There’s no I in team, Dean.” And the phone call was over.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with the third installment of 'The Hunter and The Wolf.' A crapload of thanks go out to my wonderful Beta-reader/ Co-author, Fedora. If it wasn't for her, this story wouldn't be what it is. More thanks go out to the people that read these stories and enjoy them. I love you all dearly. Please Enjoy!

_Bradley Hancock stretched as he stood up from the chair, groaning as his back popped. The wet bar in the corner of his office was calling to him. His back was to the door, tumbler in one hand and bourbon in the other, when he heard the beating heart and quiet breathing._

 

_“May I help you?” he asked as he poured the liquor into the tumbler, not turning around._

 

_“My name is Eliot Spencer,” the stranger stated._

 

_Bradley paused, then let a smile creep onto his face as he turned to face the infamous Eliot Spencer. The wolf stood in the office doorway, hair pulled back, eyes hard and muscled arms crossed. Bradley didn’t let the open glare bother him as he sipped his bourbon and took his seat. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk._

 

_“Have a seat.” He leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead, Spencer?”_

 

_The wolf cracked a small smile as he sat. “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”_

 

_The vampire observed him for a long moment, then sighed. “If you’re done quoting Twain, what’s your business here, Spencer?” he asked._

 

_“I heard about an attack at the warehouse district two days ago_ . _Humans were involved. One’s in the hospital. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” The wolf gave him a sharp grin, kicking back in his chair and laying one leg across his knee._

 

_“I don’t know much, just that a hunter by the name of Dean Winchester was involved.” He raised the glass to his lips, the picture of disinterest._

 

_The wolf shook his head and released a small, humorless laugh. He looked into Bradley’s eyes as his expression turned to stone. “You know I find that funny, right? A warehouse with your shell company’s name on the title, full of recently turned vampires ready for a killing, a certain thief locked inside with a team going in after her...” He slowly rose, hands curling into fists by his sides._

 

_The vampire paused and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So what? What do the lives of some con artists mean to you?”_

 

_Eliot slapped his hands down on the desk, causing it to jump and rattle. A pen rolled off and onto the carpet, but Hancock ignored it, refusing to break eye contact with the man before him. Eliot leaned forward until their they were nearly nose-to-nose. His voice was deceptively soft. “They’re my team. You tried to kill_ my _team.”_

 

_The vampire’s eyes went wide with realization. “They were... trying to take down my company…”_

 

_Eliot growled low in his throat. “They aren’t trying. They did. You and your company are done for.”_

 

_Bradley’s face went pale. “You want revenge,” he whispered shakily._

 

_“You tried to kill my team. You locked one of them in a cage. You put Dean in the hospital. And you think I want revenge?” Eliot laughed, a harsh and ugly sound, eyes flashing dangerously as he grabbed the vampire’s neck and dragged him over the desk. His hand tightened around  Hancock’s throat. “No, I’m here to kill you.”_

 

_And with that, Eliot tore Bradley’s head from his shoulders. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering over Eliot’s hands and face, dripping down onto the carpet next to Hancock’s head. He let the body drop. “Have fun in Purgatory. Tell Mitchell I said hi.”_

 

**…**

 

“Bigfoot. What about Bigfoot?” Hardison asked excitedly.

 

Dean rolled his eyes as he readjusted himself in the hospital bed. “Nope. Just some big, hairy hillbilly stomping around in the woods. That was confirmed about fifty years ago in the hunting community.”

 

Hardison’s eyes widened. “There’s a hunting community? There’s _more_ of you?”

 

Dean laughed, then winced, holding his ribs. “Yeah. There’s not a lot of us. Death rates are pretty high in this business, for obvious reasons.”

 

“What about your brother?” Parker asked from where she was perched on the back of the hospital couch by Sophie.

 

Dean sighed and fiddled with the plastic spoon on his bed table. “Sam’s out of the life. He’s not hunting anymore. In fact, he’s expecting a Sammy 2.0 sometime soon.”

 

Sophie spoke up this time. “So, all of those crimes you’re accused of. Are you innocent of them?”

 

“Most of them. The ones I _am_ guilty of, I had to do. The law and I generally don’t get along.” He cracked a smile at his own joke.

 

The room went quiet as Nate walked in, everyone turning to him expectantly. He smiled as he gave the good news. “Hancock Enterprises has been successfully ruined. The little boy is getting the kidney he deserves.”

 

The team hooted, hollered, and high-fived. With a smile on her face, Sophie asked, “So what about Bradley Hancock?”

 

Nate’s smile faltered. “Police found him dead in his office. They’re looking into it, but they’re probably not going to get too far. The scene was scrubbed clean, and cops aren’t trying that hard anyway. Hancock was under investigation for kidnapping, murder, and extortion even before we took him down. The locals just want to wrap all this up as quickly as possible.”

 

“Good. That sonuvabitch got what was coming to him. I’m just sorry it couldn’t have been me.” Both of Dean’s eyebrows shot up at the team’s stare.  “What? That asshole kidnapped Parker and is the reason why I’m in this damn bed! Man, the nurses here aren’t even hot!” He threw his good arm in the air.

 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “It shouldn’t matter what the nurses look like as long as you’re being taken care of.”

 

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, honey, it _does_ matter.”

 

Parker’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But I thought you were with someone?”

 

A  smirk spread across his lips. “Oh darlin’, he don’t care, so long I don’t touch them and they don’t touch me. He’s got a possessive streak a mile long.”

 

He could have laughed at their shocked expressions, eyes wide and jaws hanging open. Everyone except for Parker, who simply shrugged and said, “Well, you are kinda butch.”

 

That startled a laugh out of Dean, who then promptly grabbed his ribs, whining low in throat. “God _damn_ , that hurts.”

 

Nate finally found his voice. “Alright guys. Let’s leave Dean in peace. We’ll come visit him in the morning,” he said as he ushered the team out the door, each calling back their goodbyes.

 

**…**

 

Eliot wrinkled his nose at the cloying odor of the hospital. Antiseptics and disinfectants worked together to create a chemical stench that burned as it went down, clinging to his clothes and skin even hours after he left. And the _noise_ . All of the machines humming and beeping, the voices coming over the crackly speakers, and the _annoying_ shrill of the call lights. He was practically deaf in here. It was like Purgatory all over again.

 

As he passed through the hospital lobby, he couldn’t help but glance into the window of the gift shop. An older woman sat behind the desk reading a Fabio paperback, reading glasses balanced on the tip of her nose. On the rack next to the desk was stuffed animals. From giraffes to fish, they had it all. Very plush, and very overpriced. And at the back of the bottom shelf sat a gray and black wolf. Its wide plastic eyes were ice blue, and a piece of pink fabric stitched on made it look like his tongue was hanging out.

 

The corner of Eliot’s lips turned up as he stepped into the shop, greeted the elderly clerk, and grabbed the small stuffed animal from behind a very colorful koala bear. After paying almost eight dollars for stuffing and fabric that weighed _maybe_ a pound, Eliot smiled at the woman and shoved the wolf into his jacket pocket, making for the elevator.

 

Seven floors up, one right, a left to avoid the nurses’ station, and then five rooms down, Eliot was standing in front of Dean's room. The door was closed, and Eliot could just barely hear the tv going. He didn't bother to knock as he cracked the door open and slipped through, closing it quietly behind him. He pulled back the salmon pink curtain to reveal Dean sitting up in bed, drumming out Queen’s _Rock You_ with plastic spoons on the bed table. The hunter stopped when he caught sight of the wolf, a smile spreading across his lips.

 

Eliot smirked and nodded at the spoons now resting against the table. “Bored?” He chuckled at Dean’s scowl and dodged the plastic missile thrown with Dean’s good arm.

 

“Dude, there’s nothing to do in here. Television sucks, the nurses aren’t hot, and they’re telling me I still have two days left of this hell!” Dean ranted.

 

Eliot smiled again as he stepped up to the side of the hospital bed, placing his right hand on the hunter’s cheek and softly tracing along Dean’s sharp jaw, tilting his head back until he could lock gazes with the hunter. He watched Dean’s eyes flutter shut as he leaned down, feeling Dean’s hot breath on his lips and chin. He could see Dean’s pulse shoot up on the machine out of the corner of his eye. Eliot smirked. He placed soft, warm kisses on Dean’s chin, the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose. Dean’s huff of irritation was captured by Eliot’s mouth, his lips sealing over Dean’s, tongue licking along the seam of those absolutely _sinful_ lips for permission. He moaned when it opened, tongue darting in to sweep into the deep, velvety cavern.

 

Eliot pulled away slowly, a smile already forming as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Dean’s pulse shoot up to a dangerous 120. “I got you something,” Eliot said, turning away from the machine to look at Dean’s flushed face.

 

Slightly breathless, Dean replied, “It’d better be the brothers Jim, Jack, and José.”

 

Eliot’s smirk widened as he pulled the small wolf from his jacket pocket, setting it on Dean’s thigh. The stuffed animal stared at Dean, begging for his love, and when the hunter laughed and said, “It’s a mini you!” Eliot let a breath go he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Dean liked it.

 

“I’m naming it Jacob,” Dean stated with a grin, picking up the wolf and bringing it closer to his face for a more detailed inspection.

 

Dean’s smile quickly turned into a full laugh at the sight of Eliot’s glare. “What? Don’t like it?” he asked innocently.

 

Eliot’s one fingered salute told him just _how_ he felt about Dean’s pop culture reference. “I remind you of a wolf who loved an angsty teen that was obsessed with a man that _sparkled?_ ”

 

Dean’s laugh seemed to be answer enough.

 

“Guess you’d better find someone else bring you your _Busty Asian Beauties_ and pie.” Eliot crossed his arms over his chest with mock seriousness.

 

Dean’s eyes widened comically and he shook his head. “Okay! I’ll name him something different.”

 

Eliot’s eyebrow cocked in question.

 

“Fido.”

 

“ _Dean.”_  

 

**…**

 

Dean made it one more day in the hospital before he began to look for a way out. He was going _nuts_ in this hellhole _._ His escape came in the form of Eliot reading an article off his cellphone to him.

 

“I’m telling you, hunter, it sounds like a werewolf. And he’s killing. I have to stop him.” Eliot shut the phone off and shoved it back into his pocket.

 

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as he shook his head and shoved himself up in bed. “Wolf, that doesn’t add up. Think about what time of month it is. There’s no full moon.”

 

Eliot sighed deeply, running a hand over his forehead. “I know, Winchester. There’s still something up with this situation. I’m gonna go check it- _and just what do you think you’re doing?_ ” He jumped up from the uncomfortable hospital chair, grabbing Dean’s wrist as he made to tear out his IV.

 

The hunter looked up at him. “I’m going with you, wolf. You need backup on this case, and oh! Look at that! My calendar is open for the next week!” He batted Eliot’s hand away and swung his legs off the side of the bed, sock-clad toes meeting cool tile.

 

“Dean, you need to-”

 

“You finish that sentence, Spencer, you’ll never get another piece of this ass.” He stood on wobbly legs and carefully removed the IV. He listed dangerously to the side, and Eliot’s hand was on his arm instantly, steadying him. Dean didn’t want to admit how much he leaned into the hold. “Look, I’m not letting you go to Olympia alone. The doc said I was doing much better and was even thinking about letting me go tomorrow. My arm’s doing great, and my ribs barely even hurt anymore. I’ll be fine. Especially with you there watching me.” The last part came out as a whisper as he leaned into the wolf’s embrace, brushing his lips against Eliot’s in a chaste kiss.

 

Eliot smiled faintly. The hand that wasn’t holding Dean steady trailed slowly over skin left bare by the hospital gown, rising to trace the contours of his face. Though Eliot knew his lover’s features by heart, his fingers seemed to need to relearn the rises and dips, the soft curves and the rough edges. His fingertips skimmed lightly over the shape of Dean’s lips. “Damn right, hunter. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for blackmailing me. That’s not playing fair.”

 

Dean’s deep laugh sent shivers down his spine as he slowly pulled away from Eliot and began to gather up his items from around the room. His leather jacket, tossed carelessly over the back of the couch; his jeans, t-shirt, and boots, folded neatly inside the closet; and, of course, the Samulet, hanging from a hook on the closet door. With all of his belongings piled on the hospital bed, he easily tore the flimsy hospital gown from his lean form, leaving him in nothing but snug black boxer shorts. Eliot’s mouth watered at the sight of rippling muscles under tanned, heavily bruised skin.

 

Eliot watched from his place in front of the closed door, his eyes taking in every wince and stiff muscle. Though he hid it well, Eliot saw that he couldn’t fully lift his left arm, and his back spasmed slightly as he straightened up to his full height of six foot one. His ribs were still sore, the skin a mixture of black, blues, and purples. Scabbed-over bites littered his neck and arms. Eliot forced his eyes away from the injuries, anger making his stomach tighten and his hands curl into fists by his sides. He was thankful when Dean pulled the dark green t-shirt over his head, covering most of the bruises.

 

When the hunter turned back to look at him, his face was pale and his green eyes were bright with pain, but he still managed a small smile and a ‘You’re driving’. Eliot nodded and stepped forward, grabbing the rest of Dean’s things and shoving them into a small duffel. He then threw it over his shoulder and, with a hand on the small of Dean’s back, led him around the nurses’ station and to the elevators.  

 

**...**

 

Eliot insisted on getting a hotel room first thing when they got to Olympia, and Dean didn’t protest. He reeked of antiseptic and sweat. He desperately needed a shower, and judging by the way the werewolf wrinkled his nose any time Dean moved, he agreed. He sighed as he settled more against the truck door, his head resting against the cool window. He stared disinterestedly at the buildings that blurred by, watching as Eliot navigated the still-sleeping city of Olympia, eventually turning off the highway into some sleazy, by-the-hour motel.

 

Eliot turned the key in the ignition, the engine dying with a cough and plunging the cab into silence. “Ready, hunter?” he asked, shoving the keys into his jacket pocket and throwing the door open.

 

Dean shivered as the cool gust of air hit him. “Of course. I smell like a fucking hospital,” he muttered as he slowly opened his own door.

 

Eliot’s deep chuckle sent shivers of a different kind down his spine. “I agree with you there. You always stink, but this is worse than usual.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes as he forced himself to stand on legs that felt like noodles, which wobbled dangerously underneath him. He threw an arm out, catching himself on the bed of the truck with a mumbled, “Fuck.”

 

An arm wrapping around his back made him look up from his boots and into dark blue eyes. “Be careful, hunter,” he grumbled.

 

Eliot shifted Dean a few steps forward and kicked the passenger door closed behind him, leading the hunter to the motel lobby. Eliot pushed the door open, and the night clerk sitting behind the desk managed to rouse himself enough to stand and offer a sleepy smile.

 

“How can I help you guys today?” he asked around a yawn.

 

Eliot made sure Dean could stand on his own before he let go of the hunter and threw a fifty onto the counter. “I need a king, preferably on the bottom floor.” He watched with amusement as the clerk put two and two together, the young man’s face instantly turning red.

 

The clerk pushed his glasses up farther up on his nose, nodded, and began to type away on the computer.  “Okay, I have you in the room at the very end of first floor. Room 125.” He slid two key cards across the desktop.

 

Eliot swiped them and nodded to the clerk before he placed a hand at the small of Dean’s back and led him down the hallway, mumbling about men who were surprised by men sleeping with each other.

 

After throwing the door open and pushing Dean inside, Eliot went back for their bags. Once back outside in the crisp air, Eliot took a deep, cleansing breath. The hunter was driving him insane. His masked scent, the way he looked at him, hell, even the way he _breathed._ Eliot wanted him. His inner wolf wanted him, growling and snapping at the cage Eliot always forced him into.

 

He leaned against the bed of the truck, gripping the side until his knuckles went white and he heard the old metal groan under his fingers. He dropped his head, letting it hang between his shoulders. He didn’t know why he’d asked for a king. His original plan had been to ask for two queens, but his wolf wouldn’t even _allow_ him to form the words. He didn’t want to sleep by himself. _He wanted the hunter with him._

 

He had to get himself under control. Dean was _hurt._ The last thing he needed to be pounced on by a horny wolf. Eliot spent as much time as he could outside, making sure Dean’s bike was locked up nice and tight in the bed of the truck before he grabbed the duffels and headed back inside. On the way back to the room, Eliot nodded to the clerk and stopped by the vending machines to grab Dean a root beer. At the door, Eliot switched both duffel handles to his left hand and the soda to the crook of his left elbow.

 

He slid the key into the lock and watched it flash green, allowing him to turn the handle and throw the door open. A trail of clothing led the way to the bathroom, where Eliot could hear the shower running and Dean singing some Metallica song. Eliot slowly sat the duffels on the floor at the end of the bed and set the soda on the rickety desk.

 

“Hey, I’m back. Grabbed you a--” Words escaped him as the water shut off and Dean stepped out onto the bathmat, naked and dripping wet.

 

Eliot’s mouth began to water. He’d begun to harden with the first thought of Dean in the shower, water running over every dip and rise of the hunter’s body. He was frozen in place, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from Dean’s deliciously damp body. He finally looked up when Dean pulled one of the white towels around his hips and tucked it loosely. His eyes locked with the hunter’s, and before he could fully process it, Eliot was across the hotel room, his hands grasping Dean’s hips in a bruising grip.

 

Dean shivered when the wolf pressed his nose to his damp neck. “You don’t smell like a hospital anymore,” he rumbled against lightly tanned skin, teeth grazing, tongue tasting the freshly cleaned surface.

 

Dean forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, his member already standing to attention as he forced himself to acknowledge what the wolf had said. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

Eliot gently shoved Dean against the tiled wall of the bathroom. One hand on the hunter’s chest kept him pinned as the other slowly undid the towel slung low on Dean’s hips. The hunter worried his bottom lip between his teeth. With agonizing sluggishness, the towel hit the floor and Dean’s erection bobbed up towards his stomach. It was quickly trapped between his abs and Eliot’s clothed abdomen. Rising up on his toes, Eliot pressed his lips to the hunter’s, teeth nipping at Dean’s pink, plump bottom lip. Tongues explored mouths and hands explored bodies.

 

Dean whimpered as the wolf pulled away and watched through a haze as Eliot pulled his t-shirt over his head. Nimble fingers undid the button to his jeans, the loose fabric falling around his ankles. Dean moaned at Eliot’s growl, a mixture of human and animal. Not long ago it would have made him draw his gun, not make his dick throb and pulse. Dean’s head lolled against the wall and his eyes rolled into his head as the wolf again trapped him against the wall next to the shower.

 

Eliot’s hands were shaking and his breaths were coming in shallow pants. This is what the hunter did to him, made him fall apart. He groaned low in his throat as the hunter’s pelvis jerked up, erections sliding against each other, stomachs brushing. “I’m gonna fuck you through the wall,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

 

He looked up at Dean’s breathless laugh. “Then get on with it, wolf.” He tipped his head back against the wall, throat bared.

 

Eliot’s eyes narrowed, and he moved his hands from Dean’s shoulders to grip his muscled thighs in a bruising grip. He yanked until the hunter’s legs settled comfortably around his hips, feet resting behind Eliot’s knees. His yelp of surprise spurred Eliot on. The wolf captured the hunter’s lips again as Eliot began to circle his hips, member brushing over the hunter’s hole. Dean’s breath hitched, lips parted and legs trembling.  

 

Scratches burned across Eliot’s shoulders as he claimed the hunter’s lips. Dean whimpered as the wolf pulled away, but he was quickly silenced by the three fingers that were shoved into his mouth.

 

“Suck ‘em, baby. I don’t want to hurt you,” Eliot murmured, hazy blue eyes focused on those lips.

Dean hummed around the digits, his eyes closed as his tongue mapped out each crevice, each callus on the wolf’s fingers. Eliot groaned as the hunter’s warm, silky tongue wrapped around each digit individually, laving them with special attention. Dean sucked and lapped, curling around and exploring each knuckle and joint. He whined in disapproval as the fingers were removed, leaving behind the lingering flavors of salt and something distinctly Eliot. He was quickly distracted by a finger breaching him, and then another immediately after. He gasped, eyes rolling back and head pressing against the wall. The burn had his toes curling and his fingers digging into the firm muscles of Eliot’s shoulders.

 

Eliot’s wolf was snapping at the cage, his eyes wild at the thought of finally claiming Dean. He slowly added a third finger, and a fourth soon after, regardless of Dean’s pained groan. He nearly sobbed as he finally removed his fingers and lined his member up with Dean’s hole.

 

Dean’s gasp as Eliot entered him was muffled by the wolf’s lips. His breathing became labored with the slow, burning stretch of Eliot’s entry. His hips bucked and his fingers dug into the wolf’s shoulder blades, leaving behind raw, crescent-shaped impressions from his nails. Eliot growled and gripped Dean’s thighs tightly, bruises already forming under his fingertips as he thrust into the hunter.

 

_Snap._

 

Eliot gasped in pain as the cage in his head shattered and the wolf broke free. _He wasn’t in control, and the wolf was going to take what he wanted. The wolf was surprisingly gentle in his movements, his face buried in Dean’s neck, tongue darting out to take small tastes of the sweat covered skin. Eliot watched through a veil of fog as the wolf brought the hunter to the edge, canines lengthening and sinking into the hunter’s neck. Dean came with a silent scream, spiraling into completion. Eliot yelled as the wolf’s hips stuttered, and he came, shooting inside Dean, roaring._

_  
_ **...**

 

Eliot came back to himself slowly, dragging himself out of the distant haze that accompanied every loss of control. As he regained his senses, he became aware of a warm, sweaty weight on his chest.

 

“You passed out, wolf. First time I’ve ever seen that.” Dean’s voice was a scratchy whisper in his ear.

 

Eliot’s eyes popped open. He raised his head slightly off the tiled floor to look at a smirking, satisfied Dean. Their legs were tangled together, and Eliot could tell he was lying spread eagled on the floor.

 

“How long have I been out, hunter?” His voice was rougher than usual, his throat raw.

 

Dean answered as he drew random shapes in the sweat drying on the wolf’s chest. “About eight minutes. I mean, I was still in a haze when I realized real quick that you weren’t holding us up anymore, and then the next thing I know, here we are. You alright, wolf? You bit pretty damn hard.”

 

Eliot’s brow furrowed as he felt out his body. He had a raging headache, though that could be explained by the wol- His train of thought ended suddenly and he sat up straight, tossing the lounging hunter up into a sitting position on his lap. Dean drew a quick, tense breath, grabbing his ribs.

 

“A little warning would be fucking great,” Dean hissed, eyes screwed shut with pain.

 

Eliot instantly felt bad, reaching up to cup Dean’s face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, reaching forward and placing a small, chaste kiss on Dean’s swollen lips, murmuring words against chapped skin that wouldn’t survive the dawn of morning.

 

The hunter relaxed easily into his arms, muscles going slack, bruised chest resting against Eliot’s. Eliot slowly tilted Dean’s head to the side to survey the damage the wolf had done to the hunter. Dean’s eyes were still closed as he rested his head in Eliot’s warm palm, breathing beginning to even out.

 

Eliot searched the hunter’s relaxed expression, eyes closed, wrinkles smoothed out. The lack of tension took years off his careworn face. His lips were slightly open, small puffs hitting the wolf’s cheek every five seconds like clockwork. The dried blood was rough under the wolf’s fingertips as he slowly brushed it away, the flakes drifting down to stick on sweat slicked skin. Under the blood, the skin was slightly bruised, with perfect indents of each one of his teeth, the wounds already beginning to scab over.

 

His stomach dropped when he realized exactly what his wolf had done. The wolf had claimed Dean. Had _mated_ him.

 

**…**

 

When Dean woke up the next morning, he wasn’t in nearly as much pain as the night before. He was lying on his left side, drooling on a muscled arm that most definitely wasn’t his. He turned his head slightly, wincing at the sting in the side of his neck. The wolf was curled around him, his right thigh shoved between Dean’s, pressing against his member. He shivered and began to harden. It didn’t help that the wolf’s erect member was poking him in the ass.

 

Dean jumped slightly when the arm Eliot had thrown over his bruised chest began to move, fingers creeping down Dean’s ribs, hip, and across his ass cheek. He couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped from his sleep-dried mouth when the tips of the wolf’s fingers danced around his still-stretched hole. He arched when a finger entered him and moaned loudly. Eliot’s stubble scratched along the arch of his throat while the wolf pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss on his collar bone.  

 

“Still open?” The rumble was muffled against heated skin.

 

Dean didn’t think that deserved an answer because the wolf was already entering a second finger and was scissoring the digits. One minute Eliot’s fingers were there inside him, the next they were gone and his right leg was being lifted in the air, and Eliot easily slid in. It burned for a few seconds, but soon the burn turned into pleasure, and Dean was moaning when Eliot slowly pulled out, and slowly thrust back in.

 

The pace the wolf set was slow and had Dean a quivering mess in his arms. With every thrust the wolf made, he hit Dean’s sweet spot, drawing out more moans and sobs. Dean couldn’t think of a time he’d been more vocal. Eliot’s head was nestled in between Dean’s shoulder and neck, and when the wolf licked and kissed along the sweaty skin there, it pushed Dean closer to the edge. And when Eliot lightly sank his teeth in where he’d bit the hunter the night before, it pushed Dean over the edge, and he came with a hoarse scream. Three thrusts later Eliot came with a groan, fingers sinking into the muscle of Dean’s thigh, bruising the pale skin there.  

  


**…**

 

An hour later saw Dean fresh out of the shower and a toothbrush shoved in his mouth as he hummed along with the radio the best he could with all of the toothpaste. Just as “Back in Black” went into the chorus and Dean was getting into it, using the toothbrush as a microphone, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Growling, he held the brush in his cheek as he leaned across the counter and smacked at the radio, managing to knock the thing to the floor, ripping the cord out of the wall. Dean stared down at it for a moment, then shrugged as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. At least it was quiet.

 

He swiped the green phone on the screen. “ ‘Lo?” He asked as he continued to scrub at his teeth, scrunching up his face so he could see most of his teeth in the mirror.

 

“Dean? Where are you? The hospital said you just… disappeared.” Nate sounded slightly worried.

 

“ ‘M good, Jus’- One minute.” Dean laid the phone down on the counter and spit toothpaste into the sink below. He swished his mouth with water as he cleaned the toothbrush. Once finished, he picked up the phone again.

 

“Told you the nurses weren’t hot.” Dean spoke with a small hitch of laughter that should’ve jarred his bruised ribs, but was barely an ache.

 

“Okay, Winchester. You’re not gonna die on us, right?” Nate asked.

 

“Don’t plan on it, though I’d be back before y’all could miss my pretty face,” he responded as he rinsed the toothbrush and threw it in a plastic cup on the counter.

 

He could practically hear Nate shake his head on the other end of the line. A new voice rang through the receiver, and Dean recognized it as Parker.

 

“Deeee-eeeean,” she sang.

 

“Uh, Dean, Parker would like-” Nate didn’t get to finish his sentence before Parker’s voice was the only one on the line.

 

She whined, “Where’d you go, Dean? I miss you.”

 

He couldn’t help but smile as he wandered from the bathroom to flop down on the unmade bed. “I had a job of my own take care of, Parker.”

 

“Well, why didn’t you tell us? We can help you!” She now sounded excited, and Dean was amazed by her quickly changing moods.

 

“No, Parker, it’s-”

 

“Too late. Hardison tracked your cell and we’re on our way. There’s no I in team, Dean.” And the phone call was over.

 

Dean sighed heavily and flopped back on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eliot was going to love this one. Speaking of the wolf… He reach his hand up and smacked the back of Eliot’s thigh.

 

“Wake up and smell the coffee,” Dean said. He couldn’t remember a time that he’d been up before Eliot. He smirked. Must have been all their extracurricular activities from this morning.

 

“There’s no coffee, hunter. As you can see, I am trying to catch up on my sleep,” Eliot growled into the pillow he’d shoved his face in.

 

Dean shook his head. “I know you heard the conversation. We have about an hour and a half before the team shows.”  

 

“Less if Parker’s driving. I’ll be packed up by the time they get here. I’ll get a room somewhere else in the hotel. I’ll just watch from afar. Keep them safe, hunter.” What was left unsaid was: _And I’ll keep you safe._

 

“Don’t I always?” the hunter asked.

 

Eliot groaned and buried his head farther in the the pillow.

 

**…**

 

Exactly an hour later a knock sounded on the hotel room door, mere minutes after the wolf had left the room. Dean had helped the wolf quickly clean up any sign of him in the room, and with that and quick kiss on the lips, the wolf was gone.

 

“Deeeaaan,” Parker called through the door.

 

The hunter shook his head as he pulled the door open, arms suddenly very full of an excited Parker. “I missed you so much! You can’t just leave without letting one of us know!” she exclaimed.

 

Dean couldn’t help but laugh as he began to untangle her legs from around his waist. “I missed you too, but you please let go of me?”

 

She sighed heavily as she unwrapped herself from the hunter and dropped gracefully to the floor. Dean turned to look at the rest of the team as the trickled in, Nate shaking his hand, Sophie smiling at him before wrapping him in a small hug, and Hardison grabbing his hand and pulling him into a one armed hug. Once in the room with door closed, the questions began to fly.

 

“So what’s the case?” Nate.

 

“Oh! I hope it’s vampires! I want some payback.” Parker.

 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m staying away from anything with sharp teeth.” Hardison.

 

“I have to agree with Hardison.” Sophie.

 

Dean shook his head as all four spoke at once. “One at a time, people! Geez.” He flopped down on the foot of the bed and looked at the faces staring down at him, waiting for an answer. He sighed. “Okay, so I caught the case while I was being held prisoner in the hospital. I think it’s a werewolf. Hearts are being ripped out of chests, and so far, we have three dead. But see, there’s something wrong with the monster being a werewolf.” He got up from the bed and went to the computer desk, flipping open the laptop.

 

“And what’s that?” Nate asked as he stood a step behind Dean. The hunter pulled up police reports, and several news articles.

 

Dean turned and looked at Nate with a grim expression. “Werewolves can’t change without a full moon. Our next full moon isn’t for another two weeks.” He turned back to the computer screen.

 

“So, if there’s not a full moon, how can it be a werewolf?” Parker asked as she flopped onto the bed, giggling when she bounced.

 

“And now you see my problem. There’s a shit-ton of monsters out there, but only very few like eating hearts or stealing them. But claw marks on the victims’ line up perfectly with werewolf claws.” Dean pulled up the autopsy pictures, and pointed to the marks along the victim’s torso, close to the gaping hole in his chest.

 

Dean turned around to see Sophie gasp and turn away, and Hardison gag. He quickly closed the laptop. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m used to dealing with other hunters who’re familiar with this kind of stuff.”

 

“Try to keep in mind we’re new to the game, man. I couldn’t even sit through _Saw III_ without losing my cookies,” Hardison groaned.

 

Dean rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“So, what do you generally do at this point?” Sophie asked as she gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Parker.

 

“Next, I generally go out and question the families of the victims. See if anyone had a grudge against the victim, or if something was different with victim in the last few days of their life.” He held up a hand to stop the team from moving into action. “Before we go out and do that, you need to learn how to defend yourselves from werewolves. One, they hate sliver. I mean, like demon with holy water hate. And if you can, always, _always_ aim for the heart. And avoid getting bit.”

 

Dean then shoved away from the desk and grabbed a dark green army duffle from beside the bed. Throwing it onto the bed, he quickly zipped it open and rifled through it. “Okay, I’m going to give you each a weapon to defend yourselves with. For the computer geek.” Dean pulled out 9mm Glock.

 

After checking the clip, he held the gun out towards Hardison hilt first. “Has silver bullets in it. You have fifteen, okay? So only miss fourteen times.”

 

When Hardison still didn’t take it, Dean grabbed his wrist and smacked it into his hand, wrapping his fingers around the gun.

 

“Man, the only kind of gun I’ve ever shot has been in a computer game!” Hardison said, looking at the gun as if it was going to explode.

 

Dean rolled his eyes at Hardison as he turned back towards the bag. “Just make sure to fully pull the trigger. If you don’t the gun won’t sho- Ah! There it is!” He said suddenly, jerking what looked like a knife with a large, square hole in the end up in the air. Dean then turned to face Nate, who stood next to Sophie.

 

“This a knife that also acts as a belt buckle. The blade tucks in on the inside of the belt, completely hiding it away from prying eyes. I figured it was best for you since you’re the only one wearing a belt.” Dean then handed the knife to him, handle first.

 

Once again turning back to the bag, Dean cracked a small smirk as he noticed that Parker now stood closely to him, clear big blue eyes staring back at him excitedly.

 

“What about me, Dean? What is my present?” She asked, bouncing eagerly on the toes of her boots.

 

“Well. Let’s see what I have in here, Parker.” Dean replied as he fished back into the bag, pulling out two small, silver daggers.

 

“When I use these, I generally stick one in each boot. They’re a good fit.” He then held the knives out.

 

Parker eagerly took the weapons, smile still wide. “Thank you!” she squealed, then darted up onto the bed.

 

“Sophie. Your ring size. It’s a six, right?” He asked as he then looked into a side pocket, and pulled out a grease stained white ring box.

 

Sophie’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked questioningly at Dean. “No, but close. It’s a five. Why did you ask?”

 

Dean shrugged as he opened the box and showed her a silver banded ring set with a square stone. “It’ll work well enough. Anyway, it’s jewelry that doubles as a weapon, made completely of silver of course. You push this button here with your thumb-” Dean pulled the ring out and pushed the button, and Sophie jumped back slightly when two, small, thin blades jumped out from each side of the square stone. “-So you can clock someone and cause some serious damage.”

Pressing the button again, Dean handed the ring to her. “Be careful. It being a size bigger means it’ll probably twist on your finger. I don’t want you to injure yourself.”

 

Sophie stared down at the ring a moment before she slid it onto her middle finger. And Dean was correct, the band did slide around on her finger. “Thanks, Dean.” She murmured.

 

Dean smiled as he zipped the duffle back up and threw it again on the floor beside the bed, and picked up the second duffle lying next to it.“You each need protection. I’m not going to leave you guys undefended.”

 

Dean opened his second duffel and  pulled out a dark suit. “So, who’s ready to go question some families?”

**…**

 

“So, that was a bust.” Eliot growled as he stepped out onto the Fendersons’ front steps, holding the screen door open for the hunter.

 

Dean stepped out after the wolf and sighed heavily. “We still don’t know what the others got yet.”

 

After Dean had split the group up, sending Nate and Sophie to question the first victim’s families and Hardison and Parker to question the second victim’s, he waited for them to leave. Once he’d made sure their cars had pulled out of the motel lot, Dean called the wolf and told him to be ready to question the third victim’s family.

 

“I trust that you’ll call me when you come up with something definite?” The wolf asked as he jogged down the steps.

 

“You’ll know when I-” Dean’s words were cut off.

 

Before Eliot could fully turn around, something hit him at the base of his head, knocking him to ground. Cursing, he started to shove himself off the concrete, fully ready to kill who’d ever hurt his mate. A sharp pinch to right side of his neck made him drop back to the ground, vision going fuzzy and ears beginning to ring. A movement to his right drew his attention, and he saw Dean being dragged through the grass by his wrists.

 

“D… Dean...” he stuttered as everything went dark.

 

**…**

 

Dean awoke sometime later to a sharp smack to the face that made him gasp. Eyes popping open, he realized he was face to face with Mr. Fenderson, Jake Fenderson’s father, the third victim. Mr. Fenderson smirked as he again hit Dean, this time with a closed fist and with enough force to make Dean taste blood.

 

“I’m glad to see you up and around. I gave your wolf here some heavy sedation, so he should be out for the better part of our visit,” Fenderson said, smile growing.

 

Dean glared at him, eyes immediately searching out the wolf, almost sighing in relief when he saw Eliot lying against a cement wall, hands zip-tied above his head to a rusted pipe. His chin rested on his chest, hair drooping down in strands to cover his face. Dean forced his attention back to his attacker.

 

“Be glad he’s knocked out now, because when he gets back up, it won’t be a good thing for you,” Dean snarled at his attacker, then spit a gob of blood at Fenderson’s feet.

The next blow was expected, though it didn’t lessen the pain any. A small cut appeared on his cheek bone, and he could already begin to feel his eye starting to swell.

 

“Didn’t your parents teach you respect?” the monster growled at him.

 

Dean didn’t try to fight the laugh that bubbled out of his chest as he shoved himself back up into a sitting position. Unlike the wolf, Dean’s hands were zipped tied behind his back, so every time this fucker socked him, it threw him over onto his side.

 

“Disguising your kills as werewolf attacks, that’s smart, I’ll give you that. The only thing you didn’t think out what that lunar cycles don’t match up.” Dean smirked at him.

 

Fenderson seemed surprised, but shook his head. “That doesn’t matter, now, does it? What matters now, though, is the fact someone named ‘Parker’ has called your cell several times, wanting to know when you’ll be back and if you’re okay. You see, you’ve been gone several hours. I think I’ll just pop in over there and let them know you’re okay.”

 

And with that, Fenderson stood from his crouched position, and tore, _tore_ his skin off. Dean shuddered when the flesh and clothes hit the floor next to him in wet _plops!_ Now Dean knew exactly what kind of monster they were dealing with here. A shapeshifter. Dean shuddered as yet more skin hit the floor next to his legs, a little too close for his liking. He knew that these monsters did that, but that didn’t mean he wanted to exactly _witness_ it with his own eyes. The shapeshifter then stood in front of him, completely void of skin, looking exactly like one of the poster’s in a doctor’s office of all the muscles in the human body. _You’re an ugly fucker, aren’t you?_ Dean thought with disgust.

 

Before he could blink, however, the shapeshifter again changed shapes, this time into someone completely familiar.

 

“How do I look?” It asked, the voice matching perfectly to his own.

 

Dean gaped up at the carbon copy of himself as what the shapeshifter had last said hit him. _I’ll just pop in over there and let them know you’re okay._ With a roar, Dean shoved himself to his knees, shed skin and suit be damned. “I’ll fucking kill you with my bare hands if you lay a finger on their heads!”

 

With an effortless kick to his chest, knocking the wind out of him, the shifter smiled down at him. “Don’t worry about it, Dean. They’re in good hands.” And with that, the shifter started up the stairs, ignoring every scream Dean uttered.

 

With the shifter finally gone, Dean took in his surroundings for the first time. A washing machine and dryer directly across from him and a few feet from Eliot. And when he turned around, he could see old boxes behind him labeled _Christmas,_ and _Books._ They were in a basement, most likely, the Fendersons’. Once again on his knees, he struggled to his feet, stumbling slightly when he slid in the skin left behind by the shifter. Somehow managing not to toss his cookies, Dean staggered over to the wolf, head still pounding from the hit he took. Dropping to his knees beside Eliot, Dean began to try and wake the rouse him.

 

Shoving his shoulder into the wolf’s chest seemed to do the trick. Eliot groaned, head lolling back against the wall. Slitted blue eyes found his.

 

“It’s a fucking shapeshifter, wolf. And he’s on his way to the team wearing my sexy mug.”

 

**…**

 

Sophie jumped when the door to the motel door swung open, but relaxed when Dean walked in through the door and threw his suit jacket on the bed.

 

“Where have you been, Dean?” Nate asked, brow furrowed as he watched the other man closely.

 

Sophie could tell something was wrong when he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I was following up on a lead.”

 

“And you couldn’t think to answer our phone calls?” Sophie asked in disbelief.

 

Dean gave a smirk, green eyes boring into hers as he took a step closer to her, stepping around Parker who was camped out on the floor counting her money.

 

“Didn’t think I had to report into you, sweet cheeks,” he drawled, running a single finger down her cheek.

 

Sophie saw red as clenched her hands by her side. Without realizing it, she had hit the button on the ring, making the blades pop out. The force of the blades popping out made the ring spin until the stone faced her palm, and when she slapped Dean as hard as she could, those same blades dug into his skin, and tore, drawing blood.

 

Dean howled, hand coming up to cup his cheek, but it was too late. Sophie saw that the silver had not only cut through the skin, but burned it as well. This… _thing_ was _not_ Dean.

 

“It’s the monster!” she cried as she stumbled away from the shapeshifter.

 

She then saw Hardison jump up from behind the monster and raise his gun. Three shots sounded, one after the other, and the monster jerked with each shot to the chest. Parker leaped up from her position on the floor and drove her knife through his heart.

 

“For good measure.” She shrugged at the stares.

 

Before anyone could reply, the motel door was yet again thrown open, this time by the real Dean, bruised, bloody, and armed. His left eye was black and blue, and the cheekbone underneath was swollen, the cut there already scabbed over. And when he turned to slide the lock on the door, Sophie could see an egg shaped lump on the back of his head.

 

“You guys okay?” he asked as he turned away from the door and stepped into the room, eyeing the body on the floor.

 

“And just where the hell have you been?” Sophie demanded as she launched herself across the room and wrapped Dean in her arms.

 

“I’ve been a little tied up,” Dean replied, shocked to find himself enveloped in another one of Sophie’s hugs.

 

“Don’t do that to us again, okay? We didn’t even know how to kill that _thing!_ ” Sophie exclaimed as she finally let the hunter go.

 

“Why was he killing people?” Parker asked next, glancing over her shoulder at the body.

 

Dean sighed as he began to strip out of his suit. “Why do any of them kill? But, I never got to ask him.”

 

“Is anybody else wondering how this thing got Dean’s face?” Hardison interrupted.

 

“Actually, yes, I was.” Nate said, looking at Dean for answers.

 

The hunter gave a small smile. “What? You think silver only kills werewolves?”

  
  



End file.
